


Not Quite Wonderful

by elistarr87



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Bisexual Character, Blood, Child Abuse, F/F, Femslash Yuletide 2013, Guns, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Suicidal Thoughts, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:36:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elistarr87/pseuds/elistarr87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pregnant Mary Winchester and her young son are fleeing from John when they run out of gas. Anna finds Mary on the side of the road and offers to help, though the situation is complicated when a hopeless Mary vocalizes a wish that the angel is obligated to fulfill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite Wonderful

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Supernatural AU heavily influenced by It's A Wonderful Life. Written for the Femslash Yuletide prompt "Holiday Movies/Stories"
> 
> If you like John Winchester, you probably won't like this story.

Mary Winchester’s VW van runs out of gas on a bridge outside of a city that her road atlas informs her is Binghamton , New York. It’s Christmas Eve, 1982.

Mary can see the lights from the city through her icy windshield, taunting her with how close they are and yet so far away to a four-months pregnant young woman with an almost-three-year-old sleeping in the backseat. The snow has finally stopped falling, but the old snow still coats the ground and Mary isn’t sure if she can get herself and Dean the few miles into Binghamton on foot in the darkness.

Mary exits the car and shuts the door quickly, preserving as much heat as possible for her son. She can barely feel the cold through the rush of panicked adrenaline as she makes her way to the bridge’s guardrail and vomits into the river below. It’s mostly bile since she hasn’t eaten since yesterday. Mary straightens, staring at the rushing water, deep and deathly cold, and tries to form a plan.

“You’re not thinking of jumping, are you?”

The voice is high, clear, and unexpected. Mary whirls around, startled. A young redheaded stranger is standing behind her, having appeared so suddenly and silently as to catch Mary completely off-guard. The stranger is very slender and pale, wearing jeans, a low-cut blouse, and a light jacket. The clothing is appealing to Mary, but wholly inappropriate for the weather. The stranger doesn’t seem to acknowledge the chill they surely must be feeling. They stare at Mary with big hazel eyes, waiting for a response.

“Uh, n-no, of course not.”

“That’s good. I’m here to help you.”

“But- How did you know-? Who the hell are you?”

The stranger smiles.

“My name is Anna. I’m an angel.”

Mary’s shock has become suspicion.

“Please don’t fuck with me, Anna, I’m not in the mood right now.”

Anna seems untroubled by Mary’s newfound hostility, head cocking slightly.

“You don’t believe in angels?”

“Yeah, sure I do, in an abstract way. But they sure as hell don’t look like you. And what kind of name is ‘Anna’ for an angel?”

Anna sighs.

“This is my form because I wanted to be a human woman and- Look, I don’t want to get into that right now. Do you want my help or not?”

Mary weighs her options for a moment, then bites back her anger. She really does need help. And while this stranger may be peculiar bordering-on creepy, she’s here offering assistance.

“Yes, okay. Thank you, Anna.”

“You don’t need to thank me. It’s not just for you, Mary. I’m also here for selfish reasons.”

Mary doesn’t bother asking how Anna knows her name. She isn’t sure if she wants to know.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m on the run. I’m not at full-power and I need to get my Grace back. One of the things I need to do is help someone in need.”

Mary really doesn’t want to deal with this right now, but Anna interprets her blank expression as an invitation to continue.

“Cliché, I know, but I don’t make the rules. I’ve got two brothers after me right now with orders to kill me on sight, plus a sister that wants to mind-wipe me into a perfect drone, and I’d really like to avoid both those scenarios.”

“Wow, your family sounds like a piece of work. Uh, no offense.”

“None taken. Actually, I couldn’t agree more.”

Anna gives Mary a little smile and Mary returns it, her trepidation slowly melting away. Peculiar, yes, but Mary understands family troubles all too well.

“I’m on the run, too.”

“I know.”

“Oh, really? What do you know?”

A wave of dread hits Mary as she realizes that Anna could be working with John to find her.

“You couldn’t deal with your husband anymore, so you took Dean and you drove. I don’t blame you at all. John’s a- Well, a piece of work, too.”

Mary doesn’t know what to think anymore. Anna doesn’t seem like the type of person John would recruit to help find her. And, despite her initial reaction, Mary wants to trust Anna.

“Yes. He’s not the man I thought he was when I fell in love with him.”

“I’m sorry.”

This is the first person Mary has talked with who hasn’t dismissed her feelings or told her to “make a better effort” with her husband. Anna is listening, believing, sympathizing, and Mary feels a lightness in her chest.

Maybe Anna is an angel.

Mary is surprised to finds tears running down her cheeks, burning in the frosty air. She hastily wipes her eyes.

“I just- I had to get out. I don’t want my son,” Mary presses a hand to the slight bulge in her belly, “My children growing up around that man. But I ran out of money. We don’t have much food left. And now I’m out of gas, I don’t know what to do, Anna.”

Anna puts a comforting hand on Mary’s shoulder. The contact uncorks the last bit of restraint Mary has been attempting. All the pain and anger and despair of the last few months, no, years, ever since her parent’s death, come rushing out.

“You asked me if I was going to jump, and I won’t deny that I thought about it briefly, but then what would happen to Dean? I don’t want to die, Anna, but I sometimes wish I wasn’t here anymore.”

Anna pulls her hand away as if burned.

“Oh, no. No, no, no.”

Mary is worried she’s said too much, gone too far with a total stranger.

“I’m sorry, Anna. You don’t want to hear this.”

Anna is staring up at the night sky, muttering. She looks back at Mary with sad eyes.

“It’s not that. It’s- another ridiculous angel thing. Since you wished you weren’t here I-I have to show you what the world would be like if you _weren’t_ before I can successfully help you.”

“What?”

“Like I said, ridiculous,” Anna sighs in frustration. Mary is filled with growing unease.

“But I didn’t really mean it!”

Anna’s face scrunches in apology.

“You did though. Otherwise this wouldn’t have worked.”

“What wouldn’t have- ?” Mary gasps in horror as she notices that her van has disappeared. She cries out in full panic when she realizes she’s no longer pregnant, then furiously turns on Anna.

“Where are my kids? Where’s my car? What have you done?”

“Your kids are fine, Mary. Dean is in Lawrence, Kansas. So is your baby. Your car is in some used car lot there as well. I granted your wish according to angelic law.”

Anna is irritatingly calm. That’s alright, Mary can yell loud enough for both of them.

“Back in Lawrence? But- how did you- ?”

“Do you want to go see them?”

“Yes, I fucking want to go see them! How the hell do you propose we get there?”

“I’ll take you.”

Anna reaches two fingers to Mary’s forehead. As soon as they make contact there’s a rushing in Mary’s ears and it feels like she’s being pulled apart. The sensation ends as quickly as it began and Mary finds herself swaying unsteadily in the middle of a residential neighborhood. She stares up at the house she and John have shared for the past few years. Light spills from the many windows and John’s treasured Impala sits in the driveway.

Mary still can’t quite wrap her head around this situation.

“Here we are,” says Anna beside her.

“What the hell was that?”

“I told you. I’m an angel.”

And Mary finally believes her.

“Fine, you’re an angel. Tell me what’s happened to my kids because I wished I wasn’t here.”

“I made you disappear from their lives. I took some artistic liberty with the timeline. It’s Christmas Eve, 1983 now. You disappeared at the beginning of this past November.”

“Well I’m here now, and I’m going back to get them.”

Mary marches through the street towards the house. Anna grabs her arm to stop her.

“I’d advise against that.”

“I don’t care,” Mary jerks her arm out of Anna’s grasp.

“Look,” Anna’s tone is sharper, “I just need you to see what’s happened without you. You learn your lesson, the world goes right again, understand? Your husband and your kids never have to know you were here or that any of this happened.”

Mary looks at Anna and sees that she’s somehow even paler than before. A trickle of blood runs from Anna’s nose. The angel doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Not at full-power, remember? That took a lot out of me.”

“Do you need to sit down or something?”

Anna’s look is withering.

“I’m still an angel. Let’s just get this over with.”

Mary and Anna make their way up the driveway to the large front window. Mary cautiously peers inside.

There is no Christmas tree. The space usually reserved for the tree is currently home to a baby-safe playpen filled with a blanket and various toys. Mary can see no sign of the holidays anywhere in the room. John slouches in an armchair reading an old book with strange markings on the cover. Mary is horrified when she remembers the markings from her hunter upbringing. They’re demonic symbols.

Dean enters the room carefully carrying a baby in his small arms.

“Be careful with him,” John says, unnecessarily in Mary’s opinion. Dean is walking with painstaking slowness, gently cradling the infant and supporting his head. Dean acknowledges his father with a nod, but makes no sound as he crosses the room and places his sibling in the playpen, straining on tiptoes to reach over the side.

“Still not talking, Dean?”

Dean responds with a shake of his head. John scowls.

“That crap’s gotta end soon, son. For Sammy’s sake. How’s your brother supposed to learn to talk right if you won’t?”

Dean’s eyes widen in consternation but still he says nothing.

“Well, come over here and make yourself useful anyway. Help me find the thing that took your mom.”  
  
To Mary’s dismay, John holds another demonically inscribed book out to their not-yet-four-year-old. Dean looks at it warily, but John laughs.

“Don’t worry, it’s mostly pictures. We gotta work on your reading comprehension though, huh?”

Dean takes the book as if it might bite.

“Just tell me- uh, show me if you see any symbols or pictures that you recognize, okay?”

Dean sit on the carpet, opens the book, and begins to flip through the pages, carefully scanning each one. Mary feels sick. She turns from the window and leans against the side of the house. Something in her back pocket jabs sharply into her and she winces, rummaging around to find the offending item. Anna watches her closely, nose still bleeding.

“Oh my god, he’s raising Dean to be a hunter.”

“Yes,” says Anna. “Are you ready to go back?”

Mary is about to say yes when she pulls the object out of her pocket. It’s one of Dean’s Hot Wheels cars, a little black ‘67 Chevy Impala that he’d received as a gift from John one year. Mary remembers the delight on Dean’s face when he’d opened the present, the pride he took in taking care of the miniature car “like Daddy takes care of his car.” He’d asked her to hold on to it while he went to the bathroom at the last rest stop on their roadtrip. The outrage she’s been keeping at bay suddenly overwhelms her. She stands upright, resolute.

“Not yet.”

“All right,” Anna acquiesces, gesturing to the blood on her face. “But the longer we stay, the more of a strain it is on me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Mary knocks on the door with savage conviction. There’s a muffled “See who’s at the door, Dean,” from John. A moment later and the door cracks open to reveal Dean’s little face peering out into the evening.

“Hi, baby,” Mary’s face lights up.

Dean blinks in disbelief, then he breaks into wide-eyed joy.

“Mommy!”

The door is flung open and Mary almost loses her balance as Dean launches himself at her, throwing his arms around Mary’s legs. Mary strokes his hair.

“Dean? Who the hell’s there?” John shouts.

“It’s Mom!”

There’s a clatter from the other room and then John appears, disheveled, holding a shotgun and what Mary guesses is a flask of holy water. He stares at Mary,  stunned.

“M-Mary? Is it really you?”

Mary glares defiantly back.

“Yeah, John. It’s me.”

“Have to be sure,” John mutters, waving the shotgun as he unscrews the top of the flask. He flings the water in Mary’s face, relief visible when nothing happens but Mary sputtering and wiping at her face. He drops the shotgun and the flask.

“Mary! What happened to you?”

Mary stares at this man, the man she thought she knew. The man she sacrificed her parent’s lives for, the man she made a deal with a demon to save. And he’d turned out to be an abusive alcoholic who placed his issues on his children and expected little Dean to be a better parent than John would ever be capable of.

She doesn’t know this man. She certainly doesn’t love him anymore.

Mary gently moves Dean behind her, trusting Anna to keep an eye on him. Her trust is rewarded as Anna reaches out a hand and Dean innocently takes it. Mary steps through the open door into the house she once called home.

“My eyes have been opened, John.”

“Wha- ?”

She’s right in his personal space now and he can see her fury. He takes a step back.

“What are you doing to our children? Giving Dean that book of- of demons! When’s the baby expected to help with the hunting, huh? Another year? Sooner?”

“Mary I- I thought you were dead! I thought a demon killed you, there were these markings around- ”

Mary turns from him in disgust. She moves into the living room, crosses, and softly takes her sleeping child into her arms. He fusses briefly and she lightly rocks him into silence, humming the Beatles tune her mother used to sing to her.

“I don’t know you anymore, John.”

John is nonplussed, but as Mary walks away from him the shock fades and his eyes narrow in anger.

“Now wait just a second! I will not let you come in here like you own the place and take my sons away from me!”

Mary pauses at the threshold, one step away from Anna and Dean. She glances back at John.

“You won’t let me? Try and stop me.”

She holds out a hand to Anna, who takes it, squeezing Mary’s fingers reassuringly. Mary smiles.

“Goodbye, John.”

The same rushing in her ears, the same feeling of displacement as her previous experience with angelic transportation. Mary knows what to expect this time and finds the ride a bit easier. She’s back on the bridge outside of Binghamton standing in snow. Her van is back, too, and she can make out Dean’s silhouette inside, still sleeping. She automatically goes to clutch her baby tightly against the cold, but he’s no longer there. Mary looks down to find herself pregnant once more. She smiles fondly, resting a hand where little Sam is growing.

Anna is still holding her hand. The angel looks healthier, the blood wiped cleanly off her face.

“Did you get what you needed from that?”

“Yes, I think I did. Thank you, Anna. I know you’re helping yourself as much as me here, but that doesn’t matter. Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” Anna smiles. “Let’s see, your tank is full now, there’s some hot food in the front seat, and your wallet is a little fatter. Is there anything else you need?”

Mary is overwhelmed with relief as the van’s engine comes to life, the headlights streaming across the snowy road. She slips a hand into her coat pocket and retrieves her wallet, finding it stuffed with twenty dollar bills. Mary gazes at Anna in wordless gratitude, tears in her eyes.

“Is- ” Mary sniffs, trying not to cry with happiness. “Is this something angels do a lot?”

“Well, I went a little further than most. You know, I’m kind of a rebel. Part of the reason I’m on the run from the others.”

“Oh, well, thank you so much. And this is more than enough help, this is perfect.”

“Great,” Anna smiles. “Oh, and I did a thing with your wallet, um, kind of like the widow’s jar of oil in the Bible?”

Mary can’t recall the story so Anna elaborates.

“Well, every time you spend a twenty, another one will take its place.”

Mary is speechless. She reverently places the wallet back into her coat pocket, zipping it closed after.

“So, Merry Christmas!” Anna laughs. “And now you need to shut your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Just- shut your eyes!”

The urgency in Anna’s tone compels Mary’s obedience. She shuts her eyes tightly and even so she can see a bright flash through her eyelids as Anna cries out. The light fades and Mary is concerned.

“Anna? What happened? Can I open my eyes?”

“Yes.”

The voice is still Anna’s, but it’s somehow different. More powerful. Mary carefully opens her eyes and sees Anna. She looks the same.

“Did you get your, uh, Grace?”

“Yes,” Anna says. “Thank you for your help.”

“Uh, it was nothing. Really.”

Mary is struck with the sheer absurdity of the situation. She’s met an angel who looks like a person in her mid-twenties, gone to some alternate reality of her own wishing, and now this cosmic being is thanking her for accepting a wallet of perpetual money.

Best of all, she got to stand up to John once and for all. Nothing in the world, or above and below it, can make her go back now. Mary feels giddy, playful.

"So, every time a bell rings an angel gets her- ?"

"No."

Anna cuts her off, seemingly unamused, but then she laughs softly. Mary joins her.

"Sorry, Mary, I really hate that movie."

"Yeah, I do, too. It's pretty terrible."

Anna's laughter fades and she smiles wistfully at Mary.

“I’ll be on my way then. Take care, Mary.”

“Wait!” Mary is as surprised by her outburst as Anna. She’s even more surprised by what she says next.

“Can I kiss you?”

Anna blinks, cocking her head in bemusement, and Mary is afraid that she’s gone too far. Clearly an angel isn’t interested in a kiss from her. Plus, Anna had indicated that she was female and maybe angels didn’t do the whole same-gender thing, even a rebellious angel like Anna. But Mary could have sworn she'd gotten signals from her, the way she'd held Mary's hand-

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- ” Mary begins, mortified, but then Anna smiles and steps forward.

“I’m so glad you asked, Mary,” the angel says.

The kiss is the best Mary’s ever had, though in the last few years she’s only had John for comparison; Kelly, Bill, and Elizabeth if she remembers back all the way to junior high through high school. Anna outshines them all. The angel’s mouth is mint, honey, and what Mary thinks must be the way fire tastes.

When they separate Mary is in a warm daze.

“Come with me.”

Anna’s smile is rueful.

“I want to, but the other angel’s will be able to track me. I don’t want to put you and your family in danger.”

“But I will see you again?”

“I’ll be watching over you, Mary. I’ll come back when it’s safe.”

Anna squeezes Mary’s hand and then she’s gone in an instant. Mary swears she can hear the rustle of invisible wings fading into the air. The wind is picking up though, maybe she misheard.

Mary gets back in the driver’s seat, noting the paper fast food bags piled in the passenger’s side.

“Mom?” Dean’s voice is heavy with sleep. “I had a bad dream. What’s going on?”

Mary looks back at her son.

“Nothing, baby, it's okay. Go back to sleep. There’s a town up ahead and we’ll find a motel for the night.”

Mary pauses, remembering Anna’s gift.

“Actually, we’re gonna find a nice hotel. With two beds. Maybe a continental breakfast. Won’t that be fun?”

Dean has already drifted back to sleep. Mary smiles and shifts the van into drive, toward the lights shining ahead.


End file.
